Tirna stirs inside her surrogate womb, the  human woman hearing sounds of both familiar and unknown voices, muffled through the dark shell. She stretches and pats against the walls of her prison, now so cold and seperate. She is no longer inside her divine mother, the light of the sun around her is enough for that. It is a distant, uncaring warmth compared to the heat from within Xasandra’s womg, yet iit is still one that she wishes to bask in under her own flesh.
Her palms aren’t enough to shatter the exterior. She slams her body against it, breasts squishing against the egg, making it roll back and forth. She bashes her forehead through the shell, but it doesn’t work either.
Her breath returns to her as she wobbles about. That means that fluid that sustained her all this time no longer can. Her lungs scream for the fresh air of her divine mother’s realm. Her nails scratch and scrape, finally puncturing through.
She claws and scratches, but the tiny aperture is not enough. She presses her feet against the bottom and butts her head against it, this time the top of her cranium. But bewfore she can feel the impact upon her skull, something else on her crown strikes the shell, shattering it, breaking her free.
What emerges from the egg rears back, screaming out in an inhuman voice as it gulps down the first breaths of air in a time she does not recount. When she collapses onto the ground, draped in the fluid that held her alive for so long, she claws the dirt, breathing heavily.
“I will get used to this,” speaks the unknown voice. The pink dragon looms over the newly birthed woman.
“That’s because you lack the vision, and a mother’s love. You really should try it sometime, Straiesha.”
“M… Mother…?” Tirna groans, shuddering.
A gentle thumb brushes Tirna’s face, pulling the amniotic fluid from her eyes. When the woman blinks, she sees the goddess in her humanoid dragon form sitting before her now, and a moment later, Xasandra plulls her in, their scaled bodies rubbing against one another, the wamrth so delicate and wonderful.
Tirna’s wings unfurl as the goddess’s hands run over her back, her tail slipping from side to side.
It is at that moment that she roars and writhes in her mother’s grasp, claws gripping Xasandra’s shoulders, footclaws digging into the ground and against her divine mother’ thighs, climbing and scrambling to get away.
“She’s not exactly the most stable, is she?” complains Straiesha, who stands there in that anthropomorphic form with a taller, leaner build than Xasandra. She strokes her chin, narrowing her gaze.
“There there, baby,” Xasandra coos, “your divine mother has you. You’re alright, you’re alright!”
Hearing that voice and feeling those arms hold her close, the newly birthed dragon woman huffs and puffs and leans against Xasandra’s shoulder, clinging to her. “What did you do to me?”
“You weren’t strong enough as a human to bear the burden of your destiny,” The goddess says. “So, you have become a demigod of your own right, one who can raise her child to be something much greater than what it could have been otherwise.”
It takes a while for the newly hatched dragon to come to some sort of sense, but once she does, her voice comes softly and gently. “C… can I see?”
“Of course,” Xasandra says, stroking her crown. She lifts Tirna up and carries her bridal style past the small clearing and to a crystal clear lakeside. Placing the neophyte down, the goddess stands behind her, smiling always at her new creation.
Straeisha steps up to stand behind Xasandra, holding her arms close to herself. “How long does this fog usually last?”
“It’s different for each of my children,” the goddess admits. “It sometimes takes a lifetime to regain their personality and faculties from their previous lives. Others, of course, are completely reborn as something new.”
“You mean something inept.”
“You have a problem with my children?”
‘”I have a problem,” Straiesha growls,” with taking a life and addling their mind for your eugenics.”
“Says that dragon who wants to seed the population with magical bloodlines. In fact,” she says, turning to the dragon. “You are free to do so with my new daughter here whenever you are ready.”
“I’ll wait to see what she has to say on the matter.”
Tirna sits by the lakeside, looking at the warbling reflection beneath her. She brushes her scaled fingers over her cheek and down along her snout. Much like Xasandra, she was humanoid in shape but with draconic features in the face. Her body is scaled, but still noticably the same sort of gentle roundness she had as a human. On top of that is a noticeable belly, gravid with an egg of her own, not doubt. AS she rubs her palm over the swollen thing, she gulps and turns hjer large, sorrowful eyes up towards the two dragons talking about her. “How long have I been in you?”
Xasandra smiles and pats her daughter upon the cheek. “Oh, my dear thing. “Time is different for you now as you are not bound by the human conceptions of age.”
“How long has it been?”
Streisha steps forward this time, holding out a hand. “Long enough that the village you return to, while prosperous, won’t remember Tirna.”
“M… my father?”
“He led a great and long life. His reign will be remembered as one of prsoperity,” Xasandra says.
Tirna curls back up into that fetal position she had so recently had. It’s comfort soothes her for the duration of this strangeness, this alien body, this new time.
“Be not worrisome, my child,” Xasandra says. “ Would not have done this for you if I did not know what was in your heart. Your desire to be a mother and to help your people are both realized. They need to see their goddess now, and you shall return to them.”